


Trash Talk

by withthepilot



Series: Talk to Me [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk and Sulu make a friendly little wager on a basketball game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trash Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of the Talk to Me series.

"Say it," Sulu says, smirking as he extends his foil toward Kirk's bare chest. "Say, 'I'm Captain Buttface.'"

"I will _not_." Kirk struggles against his binds, scowling up at Sulu from his supine position on the bed. Okay, he knew Sulu was some kind of fencing master, but basketball? Talk about coming out of left field. He's always just assumed that if white men can't jump, Asian men probably can't even bounce. "What kind of way is that to talk to your commanding officer, anyway?"

"You have to do it. I won, fair and square, and now I get to taunt you in my fencing uniform and call you names. That was the deal. So, repeat after me: 'I'm Captain Buttface and I have a butt for a face.'"

"This isn't even fair. I thought the fencing costume—"

"It's not a _costume_."

"Uniform, whatever—I thought it'd be way hotter than it is. You looked a million times sexier on the court in the gym, in that sweaty T-shirt and shorts."

"Is that why you lost? Because you were distracted by my sweaty, manly physique?"

Sulu grins and puts the foil down, carefully removing each part of his uniform at a distractingly slow pace, which Kirk watches with a slightly open mouth. His cock twitches at the sight of Sulu, completely naked and wielding that foil like a pro. He steps toward the bed and guides its tip on an achingly slow glide down Kirk's torso, tracing the hardening shaft of his cock as it flushes with dark heat. Kirk gasps at the maddening sensation and tilts his head back, unable to watch. He forgets his legs are being held open until the tip of Sulu's foil insinuates itself against the highly sensitive skin behind his balls, leading to his entrance.

"Fuck, you—you trying to skewer me, Hikaru?"

"Hardly. I'm not much for kebabs." Sulu traces the foil up and down Kirk's quivering thighs, causing the captain to whine in the back of his throat. The lieutenant laughs, moving his weapon to draw light, invisible circles around Kirk's nipples, and soon he's struggling against his binds, hips jerking into the air. "Maybe 'Captain Slut' is more like it," Sulu murmurs, watching avidly.

"Watch it, Lieutenant," Kirk huffs, his chest rising up into the dangerous touch of the foil. He looks up at Sulu with dark eyes, licking his lips in a manner that tells Sulu right away they're not being formal, here.

"We're not on duty, Jim," he replies, tilting his head so his sweat-dampened hair falls before his eyes. "And you _are_ a slut. Here, in the gym, on the bridge...always my slut. Captain."

Kirk grits his teeth, unable to hide the shudder that ripples through him. "You gonna fuck me or talk trash, Sulu?"

Sulu smirks, eyes dancing as he throws down his foil and leaps onto the bed like a freaking gazelle, and yeah, Kirk is never going to challenge him to a hurdle race either, holy _shit_. He grabs the lube from the place Kirk has come to learn it resides, and pushes two slick fingers into him without warning. Kirk's eyes go wide and clear as he groans, and he wonders whether this is more agonizing than the foil teasing—it might very well be. He does the best he can to bear down on those twisting, curving fingers and fuck himself on them, despite his restraints.

"Should've tied you to your chair," Sulu murmurs, his eyes never leaving Kirk's form. "Should've bet higher stakes...could've had you riding me, in your own chair, in front of everyone. Maybe next time, after I school your ass again."

"H-Hikaru, _fuck_ , don't you ever shut up...?"

"As if you don't love our trash talk."

"I'd love it more if your cock were inside me," Kirk grunts.

"Aye, Sir," Sulu says, sporting a feral grin as he removes his fingers and plunges inside the tight heat of his superior officer.

Kirk snaps his hips up with a loud answering moan and rocks against Sulu's thrusts without abandon, the muscles in his arms flexing and twitching as Sulu grasps them in his hands. Back on the court, it stung to lose to the apparent all-around athlete, but Kirk finds the athleticism is working in his favor now, and hell, if this is what it's like to lose to Sulu, he's all for it. Even now, with Kirk strapped down to Sulu's bed, they struggle for domination of the scenario, Sulu biting his collarbone and targeting his thrusts to the perfect, _fuck, perfect_ angle, and Kirk clenching and bearing down, getting tighter as Sulu sinks deeper. Kirk doesn't want to be the one who comes first, no, _fuck_ no, but then Sulu does something amazing with his tongue against his nipple and his hips swivel in this absolutely ridiculous way that doesn't even seem _possible_ , and he's coming, hard and heavy, before he can even make a sound of warning.

Sulu pulls out and jerks himself off until he comes on Kirk's chest, ostensibly to add insult to injury. But he doesn't mind at all; he's not Captain Slut for nothing.

"Next time," he mumbles, his eyes falling shut as Sulu undoes the restraints on his wrists, "m'gonna kick your ass, for real. Then I'll touch each one of your plants and...and fuck you in the botany lab. Bitch."

"I'd like to see you try," Sulu smirks. He bends to slide his fingers over the lingering red marks on Kirk's skin.


End file.
